


over the edge

by pleasurific



Series: prompt fills [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bestiality, Dubious Consent, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Voyeurism, Wolf Derek Hale, the Stilinskis think Derek is a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasurific/pseuds/pleasurific
Summary: anon prompt from tumblr:How do you feel about a fic where Derek is hiding as a wolf and the Stilinskis take him in thinking he’s a dog. One day stiles is jerking off and Derek decides to help, his long wolf tongue buried in stiles hole?





	over the edge

**Author's Note:**

> Usual warning: please read the tags before proceeding.

"Stiles, he doesn't look like a dog," Derek hears the Sheriff say. 

He has skinny arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in his fur, the young man -- _Stiles_ , Derek reminds himself, wondering why Sheriff Stilinski would give his son a name like that -- having stated that Derek is the one they're bringing home. 

"But Daaaaad," Stiles pleads, "look at him. He's awesome!" 

Derek does his best to look innocent and harmless, as hard as that is to do when he's as huge as he is and barely passing for a dog. The Sheriff is not wrong -- Derek is a wolf, a _werewolf_ , to be precise -- but he's been hiding in his full shift ever since he managed it a few years ago, after his sister Laura died. He remembers both the Stilinskis from around the fire, when almost his entire family died. Then, when Laura came back to Beacon Hills and left Derek waiting for her in New York, he didn't find out that she was killed -- and then whoever killed _her_  -- until he woke up one day feeling anchorless, his eyes glowing red. 

He can control those now, though it took quite some time. But when he shifted fully into a wolf, it seemed to come naturally to control his eyes too. That's how he found his way back here, to his hometown, and he's been living in the Preserve ever since.

"Look, he didn't even fight when Scott and I found him in the woods," Stiles keeps talking and making his case. "And he growled at Jackson when we drove past him on the way here."

Derek did, but it wasn't because of whoever this Jackson person was. When they passed the shiny Porsche, he smelled something weird, something familiar. The two boys in the Jeep with him assumed it was because of the person in the Porsche and it's not like Derek had a way to correct them. Not if he didn't want to give away his disguise. Or the fact that werewolves exist. 

"Deaton says he's healthy and fine," Stiles says then. 

Derek huffs, which Stiles seems to think as an agreement. In reality, it's Derek being unimpressed with his mother's old Emissary, who claims that he had no way of tracking down Derek after Laura died, which is why he left him in the dark. At least he did take care of whatever or whoever it was that killed her, even if that meant surprise Alpha powers for Derek. 

"Stiles."

"Dad."

"No."

"Pleaaaase?" 

"You're going to college next year, who's going to take care of him then?"

"I can bring him as my service animal," Stiles says, standing up next to Derek but keeping one hand on his back. 

Derek is reminded that his back reaches to Stiles's waist. Then, he looks at the Sheriff who seems to be losing steam in the argument about whether or not they're bringing Derek home with them. 

"Temporarily," he says after a while. 

Stiles immediately yelps and punches the air. Derek whoofs to look like he's reacting to the boy's joy. 

"He's your responsibility though," the Sheriff says sternly, not that Stiles seems to be listening. "Walks, feeding, everything. And any damage to the house is getting paid from your allowance."

"Yeah yeah," Stiles says, obviously already focused on something else, mind a mile away. "Deaton's been calling him Derek. It fits, he does look like a king, doesn't he? It's gonna be awesome!" 

The Sheriff sighs heavily again and walks to the front office of the vet clinic, probably to sign whatever paperwork is needed to let them bring Derek home. Stiles rambles on, talks about needing to get supplies and food and a leash -- Derek nudges his side then because he'll be damned if he's letting Stiles put on one of those -- and already planning a walk in the Preserve and runs in the morning. Derek's not holding his breath for the latter, Stiles -- if Derek's calculations are correct -- is seventeen and he remembers his own teenage years and the refusal to wake up until absolutely necessary. 

They're officially only fostering Derek, not adopting him fully, but that works for him just fine. He hates the sterile smell of the vet clinic and it's safer to keep pretending he's a dog than roaming around the Preserve and hoping that no hunters -- the werewolf hating ones or any others -- happen upon him. 

He learns that Stiles talks a lot, that the Sheriff doesn't hate having Derek in the house as much as he claims, that the Stillinskis have a deep-seated sadness in them that echoes Derek's, theirs about the loss of Stiles's mother some years ago. Stiles may have been talking about Derek being his service animal, but Derek's sure he'd be that even if he stays here with the Sheriff. 

The one thing that he hasn't considered becomes very clear within days of him starting to live at the Stilinski house. He didn't forget how it was to be a teenager, but living on his own for a while and then especially in the forest has made him unaccustomed to the invading, ever-present scent of boy. A constantly turned on _boy_. Because Stiles's mind wanders and when it does, a lot of the time it goes to sex -- which he loudly and clearly complains about _not_  having to anyone who will listen. Which apparently is Derek, who can't really get up and walk away as if he understands. Not without blowing his cover. 

He does have the presence of mind to stay away from Stiles's bedroom as much as he can, despite Stiles's occasional attempts to lure Derek there. But there's a limit to how much Derek can take of the scent wafting from Stiles outside of that room, he doesn't want to subject himself to the concentrated smell that is likely to be in that room. 

Until the Sheriff isn't home one whole weekend and Stiles is apparently bored. Very bored. Watching porn for hours bored. With his bedroom door open. Derek tries to stay away, he really does, but his own cock throbs as the scent makes its way through the entire house and he can hear Stiles's moaning and shaky breath as he comes yet again. 

It's Sunday morning that Derek's resolve breaks. It's really because Stiles lets out a yelp like he didn't before and Derek's senses turn on alert, wondering if Stiles hurt himself. 

But when he pads silently towards the bedroom, the only scent is the one of arousal and precome. Derek tells himself that he's only going to take a quick glance to make sure that Stiles is okay. Nothing but a glance, only a little glimpse into the bedroom. 

Stiles is apparently _very_  okay. He's on his bed, on his knees, his legs spread and one hand stroking his cock that's already dripping all over the sheets. The other hand though -- Stiles's shoulders are on the bed and his face is turned away from the door -- is reaching behind him to his exposed and open ass, fingers rubbing circles around his lube-covered hole. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Derek realizes that the yelp must have been caused by cold lube on the heated skin. 

The sight is too much. He'd caught glimpses of Stiles's naked body -- coming out of the shower, getting rid of sweaty clothes on the way to his bedroom after lacrosse practice -- but this is more. This is Stiles completely naked, his most private parts in plain tantalizing view. 

Derek moves towards the bed quietly. He could probably even make some noise and Stiles wouldn't hear him, lost as he is in his own moans and panting. Derek takes a peek around Stiles's legs and sees that his eyes are closed. Then he looks ahead and stares for a while as Stiles moves his fingers awkwardly in and out of his ass. It's a bad angle, Derek knows this, and it's obvious that it's not doing enough for Stiles. 

"Ugh, come _on_ ," Stiles mumbles, his hand moving fast and hard over his cock, fingers trying to go deeper but his arms aren't long enough. 

He's on edge, Derek smells the approaching climax in the air, but it's like he's stuck at a point just before it, needing that little bit more. And Derek can't help it. 

He moves forward, closing the gap between him and Stiles's ass and noses at the bottom of the cleft, then moves it upward, all the way to Stiles's fingers. 

Stiles yelps but doesn't move. His fingers freeze in his hole though and his hand stops stroking. 

"D'rek?" 

The word is mumbled, quiet, like he's afraid of the answer, no matter what it is. Derek huffs in response. 

"Oh _god_ ," Stiles says, more clearly. "I'm going to hell."

But he doesn't move away. He doesn't panic. Instead, there's a fresh wave of arousal and a drip of precome from his cock. Then he slides his fingers out of his ass, leaves it open and twitching right above Derek's muzzle, the other hand dropping from his cock and both of them clutching at the sheets as he juts his hips out more, bumping his ass into Derek's nose. 

Derek takes it for the consent that he hopes it's supposed to be. 

The lube tastes horrible, but it doesn't last long on Stiles's skin as Derek's tongue laps in wide strokes over the whole crack, cleaning the hot skin. Then he stops and puts his tongue to Stiles's hole, dipping it inside just a little at first, then deep into it when he smells Stiles's increasing arousal. And then he just goes for it, slurping and licking and thrusting his tongue in and out of Stiles's ass, holding his teeth back as they bump into Stiles's cleft when he dives his tongue as far as he can. He drools all over Stiles's cleft, breathes in his concentrated scent, and feels his cock sliding out of the sheath, dripping wet. 

Stiles's moans get louder with every thrust, his fingers tight on the sheets and his cock throbbing without being touched. When Derek drives his tongue in deep and rolls it, Stiles falls over the edge. His balls draw up, the smell of come overwhelms the room, and Derek can feel the hole clenching around his tongue as it pulses while Stiles gasps for breath. Derek keeps going though -- licks at the hole a bit more gently, swirls his tongue inside as aftershocks ripple through Stiles's body, thrusts back in to coerce more come out of the boy's cock. It's only when Stiles winces and Derek scents a hint of pain that he pulls away and sits on his haunches. 

After a few moments, Stiles slowly turns around with his eyes clenched. He only squints them open like he's still trying to convince himself that he was dreaming. But when they open fully and he sees Derek looking at him calmly, Stiles's whole face colors even more than it already was. 

"Wow. Okay. That happened," he says, still a little breathless. "Not sure if this warrants a good boy or a bad boy," he adds. 

Derek huffs and leans down, sliding his head under Stiles's hand, then he rests his head on the boy's thigh, muzzle towards his crotch. He feels the fingers on his head twitch and then scratch gently, then tense when he sniffs in the direction of Stiles's cock.

"Yeah no, I think you killed it," Stiles says with a soft chuckle. "No more anything from there today. I think," he adds, hesitating. 

Derek huffs again and nudges against Stiles's hand, then he relaxes into the scratches that follow. 

"You don't want me to return the favor, do you?" Stiles asks some time later. "Because I'm not sure how I'd go about that."

It's a question that Derek decides to ignore for now. His cock is back in its sheath, he's calm, and he can always show Stiles how to return any favors another time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://pleasurific.tumblr.com/) too!


End file.
